Black Halls version 20
by Robinola
Summary: This is the partial rewrite, for those of you who wanted it, because luckily for you, I was in the mood one day to expand on my descriptive writing skills
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: If you don't know fan fic when you see it, you deserve the agony of suing my penniless hide. That means you, Jo Rowling, and especially Warner Bros.

Rating: In my mind, K+ means PG 13. I could be wrong.

Note: Consider this story a series of one-shots. The overarching story should evolve in your mind.

Section I:

In another universe, James Potter doesn't really grow up. He's obsessed with Lily Evans, of course, he cannot be James T. Potter without that. But he's still a stuck up bully when he manages to seduce her, or wear down her resistance. It's after they graduate, actually, when she's found out that the wizarding world is kindest at Hogwarts, where teachers will punish those who call people mudbloods, if they hear it happen. Now, here she is, a former head girl without a job, without a proper muggle education. She's selling spells she designed, and forced to seriously undercharge, barely getting by.

So this time, when James wants to wine and dine her, she can't seem to say no, the way she always did at school, when he hit on her in his very condescending way. The farther she lets him go, the more people he introduces her to, as his girlfriend. And the connections are helping her, Lily knows. She also knows purebloods like him never marry a girl who isn't pure, but perhpaps if she is pregnant? At least he has never called her a mudblood to her face. But still, the night she gives her virginity to James Potter, Lily Evans goes home and cries herself to sleep, holding a picture of Severus Snape. She wonders if he would have been more gentle. She never could tell with him, if worship would have turned sour, once she had stepped down from her pedastal to actually be with him.

Lily does like spending time with the Marauders, after all. There is that benefit to dating James. Remus is a pure soul, a gentle mind, and always up for a great conversation. It's a shame, she thinks, that he'll never date a girl. She could have loved Remus, but he clearly loves Sirius. Sirius is a decent friend, too, but unwilling to admit he loves Remus back. He chases skirts, riding into the muggle world on the motorcycle she helped him buy, to find meaninless flings. She could have loved him, too, if he could have loved her. Peter is a creep, the kind that talks to girl's boobs and will never date, but easily avoidable. Around him, she is glad for the possesive way James always has a hand on her, never letting her talk to any of his friends alone.

Lily has just apparated to the bachelor pad shared by the marauders, having screwed up her courage enough to tell James about her pregnancy. She wonders if he is capable of the kind of nobility he claims. Lily stops in her tracks as she approaches the bedroom doorways. Even through the silencing ward she knows they have, she can hear Sirius and James yelling. She has never known them to fight this much, even in the aftermath of the time Remus had nearly killed Severus. The way James had chewed out Sirius had been legendary. Now, James Potter and his best friend Sirius Black were arguing as they never had before, and it was Sirius who was chewing out James.

"When are you going to make an honest woman of her?" It is clearly Sirius yelling, his words nearly a bark.

"And dishonor my family name?" James clearly can sneer with his voice, as well as any of the Slytherins who have ever taunted her in years past.

"Am I talking to my blood brother James, or my birth brother Regulus?" Sirius clearly sounds devistated to hear such things.

"Going to turn traitor on me too, like the wolf—I suppose you're both using her too?" Lily is shocked at such an accusation or description of Remus from James. All of them have been dedicated as members of the Order, she knows.

"Using is the right word, Merlin knows all the attraction is on your side!" How does Sirius know that she feels coerced, Lily wonders. They haven't actually talked about it.

"Go home to your dark family, Black!" There is a loud crashing sound, and Lily supposes James has thrown something or a silent hex at his erstwhile friend.

"Perhaps I will. Have fun with the rat!" Sirius is hoarse by now, either from yelling or holding back tears.

"Oh, no, I'll be having fun with Evans, as you know!" James is smugness defined, as always.

"Don't think I won't see to it that she knows the truth about you!" She has never heard Sirius sound more threatening. James bursts out through the door, and Lily can't help but add her two cents to the conversation.

"She already knows, thank you very much!" She hisses, with some venom, vowing silently to never let him know about his child.

"Lily, fuck, he's got me under the imperius!" James sounds gobsmacked, rather than apologetic, Lily decides.

"Of course, since you're such a weak-minded arse." Lily is perfectly capable of her own snide tones.

"If you leave, you won't see a penny from me, whore!" James can tell she is getting ready to apparate back out of the flat.

"Ooh, she's fast at that," Sirius says with some approval.

"If you know where she would go—tell me, Black, or I swear, as an auror, I can—" James has clearly forgotten that Lily does have her own flat, if he had ever known where it was, Sirius thinks.

"Do nothing, since I'm one too, in case you forgot." Sirius says dismissively.

"I'm searching the wolf's hovel." With a much louder crack than Lily, James too is gone.

Sirius Black stood alone now, wondering when everything went so wrong, and why James could possibly think Lily and Remus were lovers. He has to focus on something that might make sense, now that James has apparently become a Malfoy. When Peter turns in a complete list of the addresses and names of all Order members a week later to Voldemort, Sirius isn't even surprised or angry. The world is broken, he thinks, and starts to focus more on drinking than women when he goes to bars. Remus and Lily are his only friends now, and he hardly ever sees the werewolf, as he's been dating some girl lately, despite having sworn not to reproduce and pass on his curse. The world is topsy turvsy, Sirius thinks. "I think I might be gay," the womanizer says to the bartender.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: If you don't know fan fic when you see it, you deserve the agony of suing my penniless hide. That means you, Jo Rowling, and especially Warner Bros.

Rating: In my mind, K+ means PG 13. I could be wrong.

Note: Consider this story a series of one-shots. The overarching story should evolve in your mind.

Section II:

It's been four years to the day since her dramatic break up with James Potter, Lily Evans realizes, suddenly. She's been working at a muggle daycare, since her baby was born, because no other job she could find would pay her enough for childcare. The war is continuing, but she has long since quit the Order to focus on her child. Not that she told Dumbledore her reason, even on his many attempts to bring her back to the fold. Only Sirius, Remus, and his girlfriend know about little Harry Evans. When the door of her small flat is blasted open, she wonders if Sirius has drunkenly mentioned her to any of his endless string of hookups, all of whom have been men for years. At any rate, now Lily Evans is facing Lord Voldemort, with Harry's little bed behind her. She can only hope the boy is somehow still asleep, rather than silently paralyzed with fear.

"Do you really think you can hope to face me, mudblood?" Voldemort really does sound more like a snake than a man, for all that he looks more like a red eyed AIDS victim than either a snake or a normal man, Lily thinks.

"Personally, I'm shocked you came after me all by yourself, without any death eaters holding your hand." She sneers, imagining the dark haired wizard as James Potter.

"Such spirit. A pity I cannot recruit you." Voldemort gives her a melodramatic sigh.

"The stalebloods really do tell you what to do, eh?" Lily has been calling all of the purebloods that for years, though nobody has really heard her use the insult before.

"I will destroy you for that, after forcing you to watch me kill your son!" Voldemort's hissing voice is really not suited to the kind of bellowing in a towerig rage that he is now displaying, she thinks.

"And that's different from what you were planning before how?" Lily raises an eybrow, and crosses her arms, tapping her wand on her upper arm.

"Stand aside, you foolish girl!" Voldemort's voice definitely cracks, and Lily snickers.

"Don't be stupid. I'd far rather die." She actually rolls her eyes.

"And so you shall. Avada Kedavara!" He cackles like a storybook villain, Lily thinks bemusedly in her last living moment.

"I guess you won't be killing me first then. Mom wins!" Harry pipes up in his little boy voice, cheerfully.

"Such a large mouth on such a small child!" Voldemort tries not to let his voice show that he is impressed. He has truly found the child that could have grown into his destroyer, it seems.

"I'm four, and we are enemies, old person." Harry is perfectly serious in his tone, despite his rumpled, pajama clad appearance.

"And you shall die, that I may live, regardless." Voldemort says, dramatically.

"I'm not afraid, my mom is waiting for me in death." Harry puffs out his chest in fierce little boy pride.

"That matters not. Avada Kadavara!" Voldemort's voice degrades into a terrified shreik when the curse rebounds off of it's target, hurtling back at him. There is a sound of thunder, and he bursts into a cloud of dust, and then Harry faints into the empty room, keeling off his bed in the process. Harry Evans lay unmoving on the floor, a large ragged gash on his chest dripping blood, only inches from his spotless, and completely dead mother. Nobody will call him the boy-who-lived, because it will be months before people are sure that Voldemort is gone, and even then, none will be convinced he is dead. Only a few people will even know that something took place here, and the only one who will ever know exactly what took place is the child on the floor.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: If you don't know fan fic when you see it, you deserve the agony of suing my penniless hide. That means you, Jo Rowling, and especially Warner Bros.

Rating: In my mind, K+ means PG 13. I could be wrong.

Note: Consider this story a series of one-shots. The overarching story should evolve in your mind.

Section III:

Remus Lupin and Sirius Black try to take turns visiting Lily Evans and her boy in weekly intervals, just to see if she needs any help, or an actual adult, or magial person to talk to her. They know she doesn't appreciate their worry, but put up with her annoyance, knowing that she is still a target in the ongoing war. So this time, it is his turn, Remus thinks, as he apparates into her small kitchen, to find Harry sitting on the counter, eating a sandwitch. He raises an eyebrow, knowing the boy is not usually allowed to claim such a perch.

"Where's your mum, my lad?" He asks firmly, frowning at the way the boy is kicking his heels against the counter.

"In my bedroom, like she has been for five days, I think." Harry is not as happy as he usually is, Remus thinks vaguely.

"What do you mean?" He knows it sounds like a stupid question.

"Dark bad came for me and got her." Harry frowns, knowing his reply sounds stupid, but not sure how else to explain. He rubs his chest absently.

"What are you talking about, let me have a peek at—oh gods!" Remus loses his lunch fairly violently at the sight of the body, already smelling of decay.

"I'm really glad you came early." Harry's voice is very faint when the werewolf makes it back to the kitchen.

"Yeah, look, I have to go, but I'll be right back for you, ok?" Remus refuses to deal with this by himself.

"Now what is the big deal, Remus, you know I was at work?" Sirius is stuck doing desk duty today, and equal parts irritable, and eager for any distraction.

"Sirius, just, well, in the bedroom. I need you to be in professional capacity." Remus doesn't know how to make sense, so he just grabs the man's arm and apparates them directly to the room in question.

"Both my uncles came for me!" Harry is clearly relieved, in spite of the dark looks on the men's faces when they emerge from the bedroom to find him in the kitchen.

"I'm calling for back up. You'd better take him." Sirius is instantly in his grim professional mode.

"Straight to a healer, he must be in shock." Remus sighs at the boy in front of him, who is now drinking his milk very carefully from a regular cup.

"Now will you be my dad?" Harry asks innocently, as the man scoops him up and apparates to St. Mungo's.

"Evelyn, oh good, I'm glad it's you at the desk. He's been alone." Remus wonders if he looks and sounds as crazed as he feels.

"What are you talking about. What did I tell you about bothering me at work? And who is the kid?" His girlfriend may aspire to being a healer, but is only a very overworked desk receptionist at the moment.

"Mommy's dead, and I hid till uncle came. I made sandwiches!" Harry is feeling much more positive already, now that he is away.

"You shouldn't have brought him here, if it was, well, you know…" Both she and Remus know she is referring to Voldemort.

"Come with me, and make sure he's ok?" Remus is clearly desperate, and Harry has dried blood all over his shirt.

Evelyn Puckle apparated home in the middle of her shift that day, losing her job. Some things will always be more important, and this is one of them, for all that she has never seen this child before in her life. Nobody messes with kids, in her books.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: If you don't know fan fic when you see it, you deserve the agony of suing my penniless hide. That means you, Jo Rowling, and especially Warner Bros.

Rating: In my mind, K+ means PG 13. I could be wrong.

Note: Consider this story a series of one-shots. The overarching story should evolve in your mind.

Section IV:

Does it particularly matter why the Lestranges were attacking the Longbottoms? Perhaps Bellatrix was carrying out a mission from Voldemort, a parallel strike against another possible boy of prophecy. Perhaps she was one of the few death eaters aware of his dissappearance, and on what mission he had vanished, and hoped to finish the kills he'd meant to do, of all the possible prophecy children. Perhaps she thought they would know what had happened to her lord. Whatever the reason, she had attacked only with the Lestrange brothers to back her up, and it was shaping up into one of those battles where nobody was wining. Belatrix Lestrange screamed as Rudolphus Lestrange joined his brother in death, leaving her fighting alone.

"Damn you forever, Frank Longbottom!" Her voice crackled with rage.

"You are under arrest, you bitch, surrender or die like them!" Frank was always an auror first, warrior second.

"Your wife is already a gibbering wreck, butt boy!" Bellatrix recovers some glee a the sight of the thoroughly tortured Alice, who lays on the floor between them.

"Such vulgarity from a pureblood princess!" Frank taunts, wondering if anything could distract Bellatrix from a fight.

"Rather meaningless coming from a traitor to his own blood!" Bellatrix sneers, flinging a cutting curse at the twitching woman.

"I will avenge you, Alice!" Frank's voice cracks with his savage rage.

"And I will find out where your little rugrat is hidden!" Bellatrix coos at the sight of his anger.

"More aurors will be arriving soon, bitch!" Frank screams, still hopeful to the end.

"It will be too late for you! Crucio!" Bellatrix snarls.

"I will tell nothing!" Frank knows she wants to know where his son is, after all.

"Oh yes you will, Crucio!" Bellatrix actually jumps onto his chest, echoes of the curse bleeding over to wrack her own body.

"A Longbottom lasts till the end!" Frank cries, before biting his tongue harshly.

"This is the end! Crucio!" Bellatrix is furious at the sight.

"Stop, you're under arrest!" At least five aurors arrive with a crack, finally responding to the Longbottom's distress call.

"Oh, fuck you! Crucio! Activate!" Bellatrix screams, touching a hidden button that doubles as a portkey.

"Shit, she's gone, check the Longbottoms!" This is a particularly young and naïve sounding recruit.

"It's too late, look, chief, they're completely destroyed, mentally." One of the others sighs after a single glance at the couple's blank eyed stare.

Alastor Moody stood in the wreckage of a house and seriously considered retirement. Even when it became apparent in the weeks to follow, as it became apparent that Voldemort was lying low at the very least, his followers were very much continuing the war, which had already dragged on longer than any other wizarding conflict. He kept trying to retire, every time things seemed to settle into a stable stalemate, but then something else would happen, and the department chiefs would call him back out of retirement, to hunt somebody down for murdering some poor muggleborn, or something. Hope seemed to have left this world, abandoning it to dark days, and walls scorched black with spellfire.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: If you don't know fan fic when you see it, you deserve the agony of suing my penniless hide. That means you, Jo Rowling, and especially Warner Bros.

Rating: In my mind, K+ means PG 13. I could be wrong.

Note: Consider this story a series of one-shots. The overarching story should evolve in your mind.

Section V:

Severus Snape loves Lily Evans. He respects the distance she has placed between them, however, so he does not seek her out. He knows when she visits her parent's graves, and stays away on those days. But he admires them for producing her, even still, so he visits them, himself, on the day of her birth. When he discovers her grave, beside theirs, and that she has been dead for nearly a year without hims even knowing, something inside Severus Snape dies. Having never known of her son's existance, he does not have any legacy of hers to protect. Severus is certain, in fact, that this is the moment he learns what it is to lose hope, to lose the will to live.

So when Voldemort's limping spirit comes to him, Snape obeys. He wants the world to burn, to suffer as he does, and Voldemort can achieve that nicely. It isn't long before he is in Little Hangleton, with Albus Dumbledore shuddering back to awareness in his bindings. Severus stirs the massive cauldron before him, with eyes as cold and empty as those of a shark.

"I beg you not to do this, my boy!" Dumbledore's voice is cajoling and condescending, even slurred with recent unconsciousness.

"How could I not? He trusted me with his very soul." Snape says blandly.

"I trusted you, and this is how you repay?" Dumbledore's tone becomes authoritative.

"Never as much trust, old man." Snape lies in the same unemotional tone.

"Lily would not like to see you on his side." Dumbledore insists.

"She was a fool, and died. Bone of the Father." Snape wonders how his soul can be so dead that he feels no pain in uttering such a thing.

"I order you to cease at this moment!" Dunbledore actually seems to think Snape will listen to him.

"Unknowingly taken, you will revive your son." Snape continues the ritual, ignoring the old man.

"Perhaps it is best—you will release me after?" Dumbledore's tone is wheedling, almost whiny.

"Blood of the enemy, unwillingly taken." Snape's monotone continues, as he wonders how the old man could justify the return of the Dark Lord.

"Merlin, that is a gut wound, I've only minutes to live!" Suddenly, Dumbledore seems to realize his true situation, and panics, probably for the first time in a century.

"Flesh of the Servant, freely given." Snape grimaces as he makes the cut, but is surprised at how little it hurts, compared to the ache within.

"I hope he smells like your foot, for that…" Dumbledore mutters incoherently.

"Famous last words, those are not, you old fool." Snape says calmly.

"Ah, thank you Severus. A pity Ravenclaw's diadem is now gone." Voldemort's voice is oily with satisfaction.

"All for the greater good, as he would have said, I suppose." Snape says, indicating the lifeless form of the headmaster.

"You always have had a way with words, my faithful follower." Voldemort procedes to produce a very odd laugh, somewhere between a hiss and a cackle. Snape finds it utterly stupid, in fact.

Lord Voldemort stepped out of the cauldron, with a terrible smile on his newly scaly face, and into the black robes Snape held out for him, noticing vaguely that the man had definitely not regenerated with genitals. It is probably a good thing that he has lost the ability to laugh, or even smile, Snape supposes, for all that it would speed his death. Lily will undoubtedly retain her anger at him, even in the afterlife. It may burn brighter, if she sees this further betrayal. He wonders exactly what kind of oblivion the Dementor inflicts on a soul it consumes, while the death eaters assemble around him. When Voldemort crucios him for inattentiveness, it hurts no more than a dash of cold water to the face, a shock to return him to alertness, and he honestly thanks the monster for the service. Even Bellatrix's eyebrows rise at his nonchalance.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: If you don't know fan fic when you see it, you deserve the agony of suing my penniless hide. That means you, Jo Rowling, and especially Warner Bros.

Rating: In my mind, K+ means PG 13. I could be wrong.

Note: Consider this story a series of one-shots. The overarching story should evolve in your mind.

Section VI:

As the war drags on, it grows increasingly dangerous for anyone to publicly have connections to the muggle world. Harry is being cared for by the Lupins, but his position is tenuous, and none of them want to reveal who he truly is to anyone. Especially not his father. Finally, Sirius thinks of the best way to allow the boy to hide, and be able to be seen in public at the same time. It's even a fairly illegal and diabolical prank to lay on the world, he decides, especially concerning his former friend. He just needs to get the right people to agree with him. Now Sirius Black sits across a table from Harry Evans, a steaming goblet sitting between them.

"Will it make you my only father?" Harry asks, hopefully.

"No, you'll have two fathers, officially, in a blood lineage test." Sirius sighs, knowing the truth could still come out.

"I still don't see why you can't adopt me for real." Harry knows he is whining, but can't help himself. He likes the Lupins, but still wishes Sirius and Remus could be together.

"With my studly past, you being my love child makes far more sense." Sirius tries for a cheerful tone, wishing he'd never confided his unrequited love to a child. He really will never be cut out for parenting, he thinks.

"I'm only agreeing because it's the only way they will let Uncle Remus adopt me." Harry points out. There is some sort of blood brothers and bastards as spare heirs clause Sirius had mentioned earlier, much to his confusion.

"And I can still be your godfather, just like a pope." Sirius laughs.

"I'm eight years old, I shouldn't understand that joke." Harry points out, thinking of his uncle's odd history lessons, all about various scandals, like mideval popes calling their sons their godsons or nephews.

"You'll drink it, even though I've corrupted you?" Sirius hopes he sounds like he is kidding, not desperate.

"Sadly, yes, but you get to tell your beloved family." The remaining Blacks will have a field day with this supposed information, they both know that.

"Oh, yes, of course, I'd forgotten about that." Sirius is a terrible liar, in actuality. He watches Harry chug down the potion like a trooper.

"Am I supposed to feel something happening?" Harry grimaces.

"Quick, catch, a portkey!" Sirius shouts.

"Oh, my stomach, you know I hate those!" Harry groans, wondering if the blood adoption will work if he pukes right now.

"Mother, may I present John, my halfblood bastard?" Sirius ends with a mocking bow.

"You wish to give him the Black name, I suppose?" Her tone is pure acid.

"Blackthorne, actually, isn't that more traditional?" Harry has been reading his uncle's unwanted books.

"Nobody's asking you, Johnny, may I present Walpurga Black?" Sirius says sarcastically.

"Hello Grandmother, sorry my name's so terribly common." Harry chirps, wondering what she would think of his real name, which has been demoted to a middle name now.

"It will do, once you learn some manners." She replies, sourly.

The newly minted John Blackthorne smiled sweetly at the old woman painted in the dingy hallway of the Black townhouse. He has high hopes of outdoing his new father in the all important areas of disgracing the family name, being the white sheep of the Black family, and generally being a muggle-loving nuisance in her presence. Perhaps he'll have a bouncy castle in the fancy dining room for his birthday, if he can get anyone to actually enter what looks like a genuine haunted house.


End file.
